


Not Like This

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, katniss dies, more like a comforting thing, not in a shippy way, this is old and un beta'd so beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of Peeta and Katniss living, Peeta was the only one who made it out, he's alive but broken. Gale is lonely and comes to the conclusion that Peeta could be just like Katniss. All he has to do is fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like This

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this has been sitting in a file for a year so it's un beta's and stuff but enjoy anyways yahoo

~Peeta~

A shivering mass of flesh has hidden itself deep within the comforting reaches of a dark corner. The blonde hair was shaggy and greasy from lack of care, the mass didn't mind, nothing really did ever bother him now, except for the nightmares and the constant reminder of his new and painful life.

He had been forced to leave everyone, to fight in some silly game that meant nothing now, all those games were worth was the Capitols endless amounts of selfishness and pride. They would sit there and watch, they would laugh at the fumbling tributes, and cry when their favorites died. When they cried it was for loss of money from bets. The families of the deceased had shed real tears and had a part of them ripped out with the Capitols long twisted painted nails that were incrusted with diamonds harboring the fallen tributes souls.

The shaking frame gave a weak cough and shake, his stomach growled with frustration from the lack of food he has been consuming, which has been close to none. The very thought of consuming something made his stomach twist and turn in the least pleasurable way. Everything lately has been doing that to him.

The mass, Peeta, stood up using the wall to brace himself incase he were to fall. His legs shook along with his arms and he tried his best to navigate through the large house that resided in Victors Village. It was far to huge for him and to Peeta it was a beast just taunting him and waiting for him to finally lose all sense of stability and snap. For him to finally lose what he has been desperately clinging to sounded awful and evil so he tucked himself away in the various corners of his house and rarely moved.

He shivered violently as a frightening nightmare swam though his tormented and soiled mind. The image was of his true love, Katniss, dying in his arms. She sputtered and she gasped desperate for air as he held her dark hair covered head under water. Before life fleeted from her grey eyes a flash of hurt and understanding ran tough them as he closed them as her last set of bubbles floated to the water's murky surface.

More tears cascaded down his hollowed cheeks, chest constricted and his head began to pound inside his skull, begging to escape the near empty shell that was now Peeta Mellark.

 

Day after day life repeated this cruel cycle, and the blonde mess was sure that the blonde would never escape the evil hands.

~Gale~

 

His ashen hair rustled restlessly from the wind that bled through the open rusted window, messing up his shaggy mane. Not that it truly mattered anymore, something so petty and with such little meaning just doesn't matter any more. Not since she died.

His stone heart and cool exterior cracked and he cried at her funeral. It was a dark and a dreary place inside his heart, he was slowing becoming more closed in and desperate for a companions company.

He stood up from his tired old mattress hearing the springs squeal as all his weight was lifted off. He took slow and heavy steps to his leather ratty coat and chunk hunting boots and he clomped his way down the rickety old stairs filled with creaks and termite holes. Once he had reached the bottom of the stairs he narrowed his eyes squinting, and straining to see in the dark. He located his door and he made his way towards it as quietly as possible.

His cold had wrapped around the corroding silver doorknob as he flicked his wrist, nudging the door open. A bitter breeze infiltrated his home and made his nose turn a shade of pink from the nippy coldness.

Gale stepped out on to the soft dirt under his boots and pulled the door so that it would close behind him with a quiet click.

He lifted his head and his grey eyes stared half-heartedly into the night sky surveying every star that riddled the dark blue like acne on a teenager. The glittered and they glowed, beckoning for Gale to come and join them in their dance of the night.

The brunette sighed and thought to the stars 'maybe next time.' And thus he continued on his way to wherever he needed to be. Wherever he was needed was home to him.

 

As he continued his midnight to nowhere he heard a rustling sound in a nearby bushel of bushes. Gale's sharp eyes flickered towards the noise and readied himself in the best way possible considering he did not bring the bow and arrows. So he got into a ready position and waiting for the attacker to show its ugly face.

But there was no such attacker just a cat that Gale knew very well. Buttercup hissed angrily at Gale and pranced away as if nothing could phase the old feline. Gale was now reminded why he disliked cats so much.

After he relaxed his stance and continued on his ways his thoughts began to drift away from the worlds surrounding and more to a being that no one has seen in over a year.

Peeta Mellark, with bright, happy, blue eyes, wispy untamed blonde hair and a round face was the model of innocence. He was short compared to Gale but he was a little taller than most girls. He had hands that could create beautiful cakes and pastries that's what his talent was, that's what he lived to do. His original intentions were to take over his parent's bakery and make it his own. Gale didn't know too much else besides that about Peeta.

Ever since his victory in the Hunger Games, Gale knew that he was to far gone to create another painting, or another frosted treat. His hands were trembling all the time, he has seen Peeta flushed with embarrassment every time his hand refuses to hold on to his paintbrush. It has fallen out of his shaking hand on many occasions when he has to perform for the countless interviews and shows that purposely make him remember all his pain once a gain.

It made his heart clench with pity, and he knew then where he was going to go and be a hero, he needed to help Peeta Mellark. Gale turned on his heels creating a small crater in the soft soil as he sprinted towards The Victors Village.

He ran harder than he has in ages, is breath came out in labored and uneven intervals. It made small puffs of clouds in front of his flushed face. The sounds of his boots focused him in his race to save Peeta. He passed trees, people, and trash. He was whipped with long branches and an assortment of bugs, but he continued running never slowing down. Though the farther he continued the more thoughts invaded his head and each were worse than the last.

The door might be locked.

He won't let you in.

He's with someone else.

He's crying.

He's dying.

He's dead.

Thoughts like this worried his stressed mind and it always put him on the verge of tears, it also inspired his legs to move faster for his arms to pumped faster. Ignoring his lungs cries for air and his sides screams of pain. He refused to let the only thing that retained to Katniss disappear.

The grassy fields and wet dirt finally gave to a glossy porcelain path that led to a giant iron gate that was blocking a mansion from his reach.

Gale has reached the ominous gate and placed his warmed and calloused hands on the cold and unwelcoming metal as he screamed Peeta's name over and over again. He started to slide down but his voice refused to give up it went on and on with salty tears making their way into his open mouth. Gale's voice became raspy and even more desperate, his throat was raw but he couldn't give up, not yet.

His thin pants absorbed the midnight dew and stained his knees, his head bumped into the fence lightly with the blond boy's name on his tongue. He repeated this until his head did not meet with the metal of the gate, instead it leered forward and hit the soft green grass. The natural smell invaded his nose as he breathed in and got up.

A smile crept its way onto his lips as he sprinted forward and banged on the ocean green door that belonged to Peeta.

No Answer.

That just wasn't going to fly with Gale, if he won't open Gale took the liberty of ramming his broad shoulder into the door, making it swing open with incredible force. And there in front of him was the person he wanted to see the most. Grey alive eyes filled with compassion and hate, one thing Gale had not predicted is the tidal wave of emotions that would go crashing into his conscience.

He began to look over the form of Peeta Mellark, how he was hunched over and an artistic hand that held limply on the button that was most likely used to open the gates.

His dead eyes met with Gales and he began to collapse, blue was rolling into his head. Gale ran forward and caught him pressing him into his chest as if he could protect Peeta from every evil if he did that.

Gales head tilted back and a sigh of relief escaped his chapped lips while more tears filled his eyes and made a path down his angular cheeks. He brought a large hand to stroke Peeta's hair, encouraging him to cry and let go as well. And sure enough that was exactly what the blond did, he sobbed nonsense and apologies.

The hunter man told him that there was need to apologize, it was all okay. Wet blue eyes looked up at him and gave a sad smile. His teeth were bleached white and dazzling. Though the smile was so fake that it resembled an average Capitol resident, he didn't care it looked beautiful and that's all he needed.

Gale buried his head into the soft and greasy ashen blond locks of Peeta and made him a promise, a promise to end all promises. And as the words left his lips he didn't regret them, nor did he want to take them back. They were closer to the truth than anything than Gale has ever said during the past year. He knew that this promise was something that both he and Peeta both needed so desperately.

Gale picked up the light and the emaciated body of Peeta and sat down on a silk couch with pearl enhancements and looked into the tired eyes of Peeta as he placed him his lap and pressed his forehead onto the smaller males. His grey eyes flashed with so many feelings of love, hatred, relief, and love, they all felt so natural. With Peeta on his lap watching him he felt that he never had to fake it anymore.

And with that he said his promise.

"I will never let them hurt you ever again, I promise you."

Though he seemed as though he was talking more to a fake Katniss than to the real Peeta.


End file.
